


Hustle Baby Hustle

by Firalla11



Series: Dreamwidth Transfers [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Not Hockey Player(s), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2019-10-06 08:31:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17342063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Firalla11/pseuds/Firalla11
Summary: There’s a guy by the bar – tall, with a great beard – who catches Andy's eye.





	Hustle Baby Hustle

**Author's Note:**

> Feb 6, 2019: Hi all! It's been awhile, eh? This is the first of my longer than 1k fics that I plan on transferring over from DW. I'm hoping this will help me get back into this whole ~writing thing outside of classes. We'll see?
> 
> This was written for the prompt 'pool,' and my brain decided it should mean 'pool table' rather than 'swimming pool,' so. Here we are: Pool Hustler Andrew Shaw. Bear with me - all of my pool playing knowledge is from a five minute google session.

“Looks like I win,” Andy says. He smiles and pockets the cash, ignoring the other guy’s muttering. He sips his beer as his eyes roam the room, looking for his next opponent.

There’s a guy by the bar – tall, with a great beard – who catches his eye. If he were here to pick up tonight… yeah, he’d go over, try his luck, but he’s not. He’s here to make a little money.

He keeps looking, eyes sliding over the crowd, leaning against the pool table as he downs the rest of his beer.

He tries not to startle when Tall-and-beardy appears beside him, beer in hand. He nods at the table. “Up for a game?”

Andy tilts his head, lets his eyes rake over Tall-and-beardy, giving him a onceover he can’t help, taking in the definition of his shoulders, his chest, stretching his t-shirt. He looks up, takes in Tall-and-beardy’s smirk, his beard, letting himself imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to get his hands on it, feel it against his thighs–

He needs to get laid. But not ‘til later, if he’s lucky.

Right now he needs to focus.

Andy shrugs, pasting on his best smile, the one that makes people want to beat him.

The one that makes people pay up when they lose.

“Fifty,” he says. He doesn’t have time for small-time games, even with a guy as hot as Tall-and-beardy is…

Tall-and-beardy who’s watching him, eyes intent. Andy does his best not to squirm, not to think about that look, how he’d like Tall-and-beardy to look at him like that while he’s on his back, Tall-and-beardy fucking him and– “What?” Andy says, wrenching his thoughts away. “Too rich for you?”

Tall-and-beardy shakes his head, slow, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. “Fifty’s good.”

He puts his money on the table and grabs a cue from the rack, doesn’t seem to be offended when Andy counts it. Andy gives a little shrug when Tall-and-beardy does the same with his.

He picks up the chalk and gestures Tall-and-beardy to the table. He doesn’t mind going second. Letting people think they have a chance earns him more money in the end.

Tall-and-beardy lines up and takes his shot without a word, sinking a ball into the corner pocket, and another into one of the sides.

“Guess I’m stripes,” Tall-and-beardy says.

“Guess so.”

Tall-and-beardy circles the table, brushing past him to take his next shot.

He misses, then he shrugs.

Andy bites back a smile. This is going to be _easy_.

He steps in to take his turn, sinks two of his balls before he misses on purpose, then he stands back to watch Tall-and-beardy try again. He gets one this time. So does Andy. Tall-and-beardy gets another one, and Andy bites his lip, watching him, watching the way his shirt pulls when he bends over, thin cotton stretched even tighter, his jeans tight to the curve of his ass.

He swallows, shakes his head. Tall-and-beardy’s winning; it’s the perfect time to see if he’ll ante up a little more money. Andy arches an eyebrow at him. “How ‘bout we make this a little more interesting?”

Tall-and-beardy shrugs. “Another twenty?”

“Sure,” Andy says, easy.

It’s his turn again. Tall-and-beardy has four. Andy has three. And it’s about time he wraps this game up. He sinks one, then another, then another, pausing just long enough between shots to make it look like he doesn’t have this all planned out, like he didn’t know where every one of his balls were going to go the moment Tall-and-beardy broke the rack.

He moves, down to the side of the table. One more of his, then the eight ball, and he’s earned himself another seventy bucks, and it’ll probably be time to get out of here for the night, before anyone realizes he hasn’t lost a game yet.

He lines up his shot, trying to ignore Tall-and-beardy leaning against the table opposite him, but Andy’s eye-level with his abs when he leans in. He swears he can see the cut of them through Tall-and-beardy’s shirt.

He closes his eyes briefly and takes a breath, trying to relax, to focus. Two more shots, that’s it, then he can look around here or head across town, see if anyone is looking to get their dick sucked.

He’s sure someone is. Someone _always_ is.

He pulls the cue back, breathes in, breathes out, and moves, cue sliding forward, connecting with the cue ball, and–

He misses his shot, cue ball rolling uselessly passed his coloured one.

He bites back a curse, but it’s not the end of the world. Tall-and-beardy still has three balls left. He’ll have another chance.

He steps back, giving Tall-and-beardy some room…

And he watches in disbelief as Tall-and-beardy sinks his last three balls, one after the other, barely pausing to line up his shots, until the table’s clear of everything but the ball Andy didn’t pocket, and the eight ball.

It seems inevitable suddenly, that Tall-and-beardy’s going to pocket it too.

His stomach is twisting, fingers squeezing his cue with the sinking feeling that _he’s_ the one who just got hustled, like some newbie on their first trip to a pool hall.

The eight ball hits the corner pocket with a hollow thud.

All he can do is watch helplessly as Tall-and-beardy picks up the pile of bills from the corner of the table, slipping the money into his wallet.

“It’s been fun,” he says, and Andy bites back another curse, eyes narrowing when Tall-and-beardy winks at him, then heads for the door.

Andy stares after him, biting his lip as he watches Tall-and-beardy get lost in the crowd. He wants– he wants–

Andy shakes his head and hurries after him, ducking between people, trying to get to the doors, trying to catch up with the guy.

This could be a _horrible_ idea.

Since when does he have good ones?

He pushes the door open and steps out into the cold, casting around. He just needs a glimpse–

There, halfway across the parking lot, heading for the street. Andy swallows, walks faster. His footsteps are loud in the hushed darkness. Tall-and-beardy has to know he’s there.

“Hey. Wait up,” Andy calls.

Tall-and-beardy turns, eyebrows raised. “What?”

Andy bites his lip, suddenly unsure, then he rolls his eyes at himself. He didn’t come all the way out here to not say anything. He closes the distance between them, waves over his shoulder in the vague direction of the bar. “What the fuck was that?”

Tall-and-beardy snorts. “I think you know _exactly_ what that was, kid. You just got played.”

Andy huffs, eyes dropping when Tall-and-beardy licks his lips. He snaps his gaze up when Tall-and-beardy smirks. “I’m not a kid.”

Tall-and-beardy steps closer. Andy doesn’t back away. “Aren’t you?”

“Fuck no,” Andy says, tilting his chin up. His heartbeat is loud in his ears.

“Glad to hear it,” Tall-and-beardy murmurs, then he’s leaning in, kissing Andy, his hand grabbing Andy’s, curling his fingers into a fist, the other in his hair, holding them together.

Andy groans, kisses back as good as he gets. Shit, he wants– he wants to climb this guy like a fucking tree, rub off on his stupid, massive thigh and just keep _kissing_ him, holy fuck–

“Eager,” Tall-and-beardy says, speaking against his lips.

“Fuck you,” Andy says, bristling.

“Maybe next time.”

Andy groans, takes a deep breath. “What about this time?”

Tall-and-beardy nips at his lip, then he pulls away, steps away. Andy misses his warmth, the scrape of his beard, immediately.

“I’ll see you around…” Tall-and-beardy trails off, arching an eyebrow at him.

“Andy,” he says. He’s not proud of how breathy it comes out.

Tall-and-beardy’s smirking again. “I’ll see you around, Andy.”

Andy swallows. His lips are tingling, a dull throb in his lower one as he watches Tall-and-beardy go–

“Hey, wait a minute,” he calls. Tall-and-beardy stops, but he doesn’t turn around. “Aren’t you going to tell me _your_ name?”

“It’s Brandon,” Brandon calls back.

He lifts a hand but doesn’t wave, then he starts walking again, shoving his hands into his pockets

Andy stands, frozen, doesn’t look down, doesn’t look away until Brandon's out of sight, then he lifts his hand, uncurls his fingers.

Brandon tucked a five-dollar bill into his hand. And a note.

When the hell did he have time to write a note?

Andy shifts, angling the napkin, trying to catch enough light from the streetlamp to read it.

 _Thanks for the money. Buy yourself a drink._ There’s a fucking smiley face underneath it.

Brandon's an _ass_.

Andy can’t wait to see him again.


End file.
